When the Wizard chased the Rogue
by Ace242
Summary: Malark the wizard comes to a crossroads in his life while in a small tavern off the beaten path. What he finds there could lead to an adventure he didn't forsee, and the hunt for a ghost from his past. And what caused this massive upheaval in an otherwise dull afternoon? A pretty half-elf rogue with a purple hair and a taste for trouble.
1. Falling Hard at the Crossroads

In his right hand lay a single gold piece, and in his left sat an ornate silver ring on a chain. Malark os Mys Shari stared at them with a mixture of frustration and longing. He leaned back and sighed, his decision still escaping him and glanced around. The dim tavern was busy without being full, but his drinking companions were mostly mild-mannered sailors and tradesman taking in the long day. The only notable individuals were the innkeep, alert and continually glancing his way (no doubt frustrated at his lack of patronage than truly suspicious) and the halfhearted minstrel in the corner, waiting for someone to dance. His ale sat warm on the table, mostly untouched; he had more on his mind than merriment.

Both of his palms felt heavy, and as he opened them again his mind was drawn back to the subject he had pondered on his journey. The coin in his right hand meant freedom, he would go to the shipyard tomorrow and purchase a small vessel. He would hire a crew and strike out for the Sword Isles, He knew his trade and longed for the smell of the salt air and a true storm to test his magic against. With just a thought of reaching the goal he worked so hard for, excitement pumped in his veins and he could feel the return to his beloved sea pulling him strongly; surely the fates wanted him back where he belonged.

But he had no plan! No purpose other than fulfilling that part of his soul that ached. He could fulfill all his desires, but it would take almost his entire fortune from the past campaign. The life of a sailor was never easy and without a job, a trade or a contract. He was not likely to stumble into wealth right away, and the love of a crew only lasts so long when bellies are empty, and shore is weeks away.

Oppositely in his left hand, the triple lightning bolts of Talos etched into silver still sparked rage inside him. His acolyte ring, stolen from the Lords of the Tempest upon his escape, was now worn as a lucky charm. Following the path of vengeance, he had true purpose; he had traveled with adventurers, fought with dragons, and vanquished a blight upon the world. He left dripping in glory and set out with his pouch full of gold... only to find himself dwelling once more on the ghosts of his past. What good was his new battle magic if he wasn't casting it against evildoers? What would happen to the next victims of the Lords if he did not track down and obliterate that dreaded caste before it struck again? Could he really turn his heart back to the sea and ignore the next coven of hags or band of pirates or singing troll he ran into? It seemed folly to even think about and his fingers twitched with sparks and ice crystals as he longed to unleash his fury on those that kept him from his peace.

This constant back and forth was getting him nowhere. He took a gulp of warm ale but that was no better, and he seemed to fall back into the same spiral of thought when the door banged open, interrupting his musings. Two men, mercenaries by the state of their armaments and the scowls on their faces, sauntered into the bar past Malark and called for service from the inkeeper. They had barely grabbed their ales before they set off with purpose towards a lone hooded stranger in the corner near the fireplace.

Intrigued, Malark half-listened, placing the coin back with its brethren and hiding the ring under his tunic while he pretended to nurse his ale. Snippets of conversation followed, but he only caught the word "job" and a few details here and there. If Malark was a betting half-elf he would say that this stranger was being hired for wet-work. While he had collected a bounty or two in his day, professional assassins were something he didn't have much tolerance for, but this stranger seemed to be cut from a different cloth. No words reached his ears, but the voice was higher, almost musical, and by the way the gruff twins were reacting, the stranger seemed to be rejecting them cold.

The regulars had cleared out as voices had started to rise in anger, and even the minstrel had fled upstairs to safety. As for innkeeper he backed to the corner, reaching under the bar for a weapon to hold onto as the burly men grew louder and more impatient. The only ones who didn't seem to be blustering or panicked were Malark and the stranger; the former was too intrigued that he forgot to consider fleeing and the later was seemingly completely at ease, as if the thought of those two as a threat was... cute.

Eventually a rusted dagger made its way onto the table and to compound the complete lack of subtlety, the first Mercenary (Mentally dubbed Beard by Malark) bellowed at the stranger. "You gonna take the Job 'r me n' da boys will do ya in."

The barely intelligible threat would have been doubtlessly followed by another if a high-quality blade hadn't been slammed into the table in front of the dagger, silencing any more grunt-speech from either ruffian. Malark noted the fine craftsmanship in an elegantly crafted kukri blade and registered a flash of purple before the stranger's voice spoke up much clearer than it had before.

"Now I'm repeating myself, you clearly are idiots, so I'll speak slowly. I'm... not... like...my...kin. Now the only reason I accepted this little meeting was because it was supposed to be with Hookhand himself. You're clearly no more than hired muscle and the cheap sort in fact. So please leave me before I cut out your tongue, saving anyone else cursed to talk to you from a spray of spittle." What followed was a mixture of insults in elvish barely loud enough to make Malark choke back a laugh.

Malark watched in a mix of awe and amusement as this petite, well-spoken figure finished scaring the crap out of two mercenaries and withdrew her blade from the table. All things considered the matter seemed closed and she sheathed her blade and backed away from the scene.

Suddenly the frightened innkeeper knocked over a row of tankards lifting a clearly too heavy ax. He seemed to be trying to put a blade between him and the quarreling threesome in case they caused more than just holes in his table. The brutes were galvanized by the presence of an audience that could report on their cowardice and failure, and they lunged towards the stranger with a vengeance. Beard reached her first but was quickly sidestepped. In a blur of motion Malark could not follow he was tripped/thrown past the stranger and into a set of chairs behind. She moved fast and smooth as the wind towards her second opponent and blocked his dagger hand, striking him as he backed towards the bar, but keeping her blade sheathed to prevent bloodshed.

While she handled her opponent with ease, her focus was occupied, and Beard was starting to stir. Without thinking, Malark uttered a quick spell and a magical hand appeared over the stirring mercenary and planted his head back into the wooden floorboards, cracking them (clearly it had been filled with rocks).

As the stranger dispatcher her opponent she turned at the sound and her hood fell off her head. Malark recognized a kindred half-elf immediately, and the purple he saw earlier shown brighty in her eyes as a violet hue. As his eyes roved her features he noticed her hair had the same matching color on the tips. She seemed to not register his presence at first, looking first at her fallen foe before turning back and meeting his eyes.

Malark attempted to act casual (damn unconvincingly he thought while looking at those eyes). He drained the last of his ale in a gulp before putting the tankard down and keeping his hands on the table in non-threatening positions. Yet she still seemed to sense his capabilities as her hand lay lightly on her blade's hilt for the first time since the altercation had begun.

The stranger raised her nose and seemed to sniff the air with slight disdain. "Magic.. what a nuisance. I had that well in hand."

Stifling a chuckle at her tone, he replied with a smile "Well at least one of us here had to be a gentleman. Two on one is a rather unjust affair."

After a few beats of silence and intense eye contact she seemed to accept this and assumed a more casual stance. "Well Mr. Gentleman, since you deprived me of trying to decipher his piss-poor attempt at Common to find out where his boss's lair is... I suppose I'll go now." She lifted her hood and made for the door but spared more than one glance back at her seated companion who made no secret of staring at her as she left.

Malark sat there for a while, attempting once more to sip at an empty tankard before he realized how rattled he was by that brief encounter. He pushed back his chair and paid the barkeep with a handsome tip "for the damages" and left the inn himself. He was making his way back to his trusty horse Emerald when the thoughts of violet and the smell of flowers was shocked out of his system by a realization.

He needed to find her again.


	2. Light Stalking

When Malark finished circling the clearing, his spell all but confirmed she was there. He had reached his goal, her campsite was tucked away, barely visible off the road, but now the wizard was puzzled on how to proceed. Obviously, magically tracking her down was not the most genial way to start a new… friendship…. but there was no other way to get the answers he needed.

Rudeness aside, Malark had learned firsthand from Desenriel and her creative punishments for the party (especially Mataman and Thad) that messing with a rogue's personal space could result in consequences ranging from humiliation, to pain, to dismemberment. So he sat there, fiddling with the bloodhound fur in his palm nervously and pondering his next move as Emerald looked at him with judging eyes. His horse clearly thought "Didn't think this one through eh?"

"Ho the camp!" He bellowed. Another lesson from Thad, when in doubt, use the direct approach. Malark waited for a few moments, wondering whether he should amplify his voice with magic or just continue to wait while looking foolish. Though in his consideration of magic, the distracted wizard lost track of his previous spell. Had he stuck to his lessons, he may not have been as surprised by the voice over his right shoulder that asked reasonably "Do gentlemen stalk nowadays? Doesn't make sense to me, but I think my gender stopped trying to understand yours a few centuries ago."

Luckily for Malark, his startled jerk did not send him tumbling to his ass on the ground. He still felt the need to hush Emerald who made a sound equivalent to a horsey chuckle at his master's predicament.

Malark turned to face his purple eyed quarry. She sat with her legs splayed on a tree limb and had clearly snuck around him through the treeline above. She didn't have her kukri blades drawn but he knew the crossbow she had in her lap would not tickle if she decided to use it.

"Yes, well, ummm…." Years of diplomatic training were showing their long term effects as Malark eloquently stumbled through random nonsense after being distracted by the small smirk he spotted under the purple eyes. "I needed to find you. It's important or I wouldn't have stalked you." He congratulated himself on complete sentences while internally facepalming over his admission of guilt.

She seemed to be a bit surprised (unsurprisingly) and while the smirk faded it was replaced with more of a thoughtful look. She switched positions, putting the crossbow aside and sliding on her stomach over the branch, placing her head on her hands and kicking her feet up on the trunk.

"Now while I agree we might have some unfinished business, you can't honestly expect me to fall all over you just because you managed one little assist and found my little hiding spot hmmm? Don't you know how to court a girl? Where are the flowers? The heads of my enemies? 7 minstrels to sing of my beauty? I mean you show up here when I'm half-dressed and expect a quick fu….

"Wait, wait wait I'm here about Hookhand!"

The clearing grew a bit silent, and while they both were a bit red in the face, the violet eyes seemed to have more amusement, if a bit of annoyance that her game had been de-railed. Meanwhile the hazel ones were tinged with obvious desperation as the idiot they were attached to tried to reclaim his honor and avoid picturing the scene she was describing.

"Hookhand? I don't know a Hookhand? Who's he? Not the new doctor in town I hope, seems a bit inconvenient for a surgeon."

Now that he had caught his breath, he managed to string two thoughts together and realize she wasn't just playing with him to be coy. "I heard what you said yesterday, it wasn't something that felt important during the scuffle, but you were clearly looking for Hookhand. There should only be one man by that name. A pirate, a vagabond, famed across the Sword Coast. Yet you were there to meet someone with that name. Why?"

The game was over, or at least paused as the half-elf propped herself up onto the branch and picked up the crossbow. Rather than point it at Malark though, she darted through the trees swiftly, moving over branches and placing some obstacles between the two. "Look, you overheard something you're not a part of. It's none of your business and a gentleman never asks a lady such a personal question abruptly!"

Malark resumed his concentration on his tracking spell. His experience told him she could dart off at any time, and this was too important to risk losing her. The next sentence came out firm but calm, ringing out loudly in the forest. "Hookhand is my business, I've sailed the Sword Coast for years. That villain and his crew have murdered more friends of mine than I can stand to remember. The last time I looked at him, his namesake was on the ground and I had driven a spike of ice through his guts. I thought I had seen the last of him as the remains of his faded into the blackness of the sea."

Another silence settled on the trees. He did not see her but heard the faint sound of her breath and knew she was still close through his spell.

"How do you know it is the same man?" Came her voice, tentative but firm. "I hear it's a very popular name this century. All the boys named Hookhand, all the girls named Alliyah."

Malark rolled his eyes "And I suppose they all hire mercenaries and threaten assassins in this part of the world too. Who is it you were trying to meet?"

"…. Fine it was the pirate. He's famous through across the land you know, and he has been raiding ships for years. Even with your supposed victory."

Malark was startled, feeling almost sick. He dismounted from Emerald and wound his hand in his mane. "How can he still be alive? We were days away from shore, no necromancer could have found his body. And no cleric would have touched a soul so unclean."

Before he knew it, she was closer than she had ever been, within arms length on the other side of Emerald. She looked almost concerned but still seemed determine to avoid a serious answer. "Like I said, maybe it's not the same man. Pirates take the name of their powerful fallen brothers all the time. It's the name that's important. No one would surrender to the dread pirate Westley."

"A new Hookhand, adding crimes to the dark legacy, or the old Hookhand, brought back from the death after I put him down for good….. Neither are good options." Malark sits down on the forest floor, memories of storms and ships and battle raging inside as he tries to put the pieces together. "So how do you come into this… you know, I just realized we haven't been introduced."

"See what happens when you do things all out of order? Stalking poor innocent me without even learning her name first? Some gentleman you are. Aren't you supposed to give your name before asking for mine?"

The playful tone had returned, and it helped pull Malark out of his dark thoughts and back to the present. "My name is Malark os Mys Shari, it's a pleasure to meet you. I was a sailor and an Ambassador along the Sword Coast for many years before I…. ran into some trouble with a certain cult. After that I bounced from town to town until I found a bit of an odd group. We travelled together, fought together and pitted ourselves against the cult of Tiamott."

"Oh, so that was you? I was wondering why we all weren't suffering torture under a pitch-black sky with a five headed dragon god hovering above. Though to be fair it was only luck that you lot finished them off before my friends got involved. We may have actually made a bit less of a mess of it."

Malark laughed "If you knew my party, you would know that things could have been much, much worse. But I do still miss the bastards. None of them wanted to join me on the open seas though, so here I am. Tracking you down with a spell in order to find out whether a ghost from my past is truly alive."

"Is that the only reason you're here?" The question hung in the air, especially when their eyes met. Just when Malark was about to answer with what he hoped was a witty, flirtatious retort, Emerald neighed a warning and his eyes were drawn to his horse. Malark's half-elf eyes picked up a party about 45 feet away through the trees. They seemed armed but not heading in their direction. Still it didn't hurt to be cautious and Malark quieted Emerald and prepared himself for a quick attack if needed.

As he reached to put the fur in his left hand away into his components pouch he found it was empty. A quick look around showed the violet haired half-elf nowhere in sight and all evidence of her camp had been cleared away. Fortunately for him, she hadn't touched his gear or his gold.

"Funny thing, those spells. Even Locate Creature won't be able to find me without this bit of bloodhound fur, and I doubt you're going to get to shave another dog anytime soon. So, it looks like I'll be on my way then." The familiar voice came from the trees and once again Malark looked up to see a cheeky grin flash his way. Violet eyes sparkles with triumph.

His tone became desperate "Don't go near Hookhand, he was a monster then and if he's back, he'll come back worse. This won't end well. I don't know what you want but let me help you!"

"I told you before, my business is my own. Whether I'm dealing with a pirate, a copycat, a ghost, or a corpse the fact is that bastard has plundered something I want. And if there's one thing you should know about me Malark os Mys Shari, it's that I get what I want."

As she turned to dart away through the trees she stopped before turning back one more time. "In that same vein I don't think it's a good idea to share my name with a wizard I'm fleeing from. But all the same, if we ever do run into each other again handsome, you can call me M."

Malark cursed as she disappeared into the trees but his move to track her down on Emerald was interrupted by sounds of a pitched fight as the armed group he spotted earlier was moving to attack a merchant party travelling the road.

Making a split decision, he turned Emerald towards the screams in the hope he could save the lives of the innocent. He readied a spell to cast on horseback and came to a realization right before the ice flew from his hand.

Some days it's just not worth it to stalk your crush.


	3. Chasing a Ghost and a Dream

Luckily for all involved not only did the merchants escape with their lives, but they had answers to some of Malark's most pressing questions. Malark got to hear the stories of Hookhand's most recent atrocities, and through the exaggeration and the patterns he heard, he had a good idea of where the pirate might strike next.

After confirming the merchants were well on their way and refusing a reward, Malark set off on a hard, two-day ride towards Daggerford. He reached the city just before nightfall and was grateful for his previous travels as he managed to track down one of the more reputable inns and paid for the boarding and care of the hardworking Emerald.

Though exhausted himself, Malark knew that he would have much better luck asking around the taverns tonight. He armed himself lightly as always, but with a few extra surprises in case things went sour. Daggerford wasn't the deepest slum in the realm but it had a reputation as sharp as its name. Malark carried only the coin he would need to ply information from willing hands and left the rest with his pack, locked and warded in his room. Throughout it all he tried to keep M out of his mind, while little flashes of violet would make their way into his thoughts, Malark knew that exorcising the demon from his past came first.

The first bar he came to was a raucous affair; the kind he knew instinctually wasn't his best shot. But he stayed for an ale, greasing the palm of the bartender to get locations of Hookhand's former crew. But none of the names seemed to gain any traction. After narrowly avoiding a falling drunk belting out an off key dirty ditty, Malark decided to move on.

The second bar was closer to the ports and more promising by far. Sailors here were huddled and secretive. Discussing routes and silencing their drunker counterparts before conversation could be overheard. Piracy had clearly raised the tension for seamen everywhere. Malark could remember back in the days of old the first mate would threaten all talkers with a particularly sharp dagger. A swift smile of remembrance for the man was dashed with the vivid memory of the storm that took him and many others from Malark's life.

As he stared into his second mug of the night and watching the ripples form, he wondered if he would ever truly stop the Lords. Despite his power, despite his knowledge, despite his fury, they evaded him. It seemed like just like with the merchants he would continue to be set off course by each passing trouble until he grew old and withered. To weak to even hold a mast line…. But then the crew laughed behind him and he remembered the smile on the merchant's face as he held his daughter safely, he remembered Mataman's singing and Thad's booming laugh, he remembered Zuriel's constant faith and M's smirk. One more swing of ale banished the mood for good. What good was vengeance if another darkness still won? He would drive them all back with the righteous fury of a storm and not even the hounds of Hell could keep him from port much less the withers of time.

He swung around to the laughing men as he reached into his coat to pull out a secret weapon. "You jolly men are having a good time, but what say you to a round of dice, eh?"

Drunk, happy and gambling sailors were as gossipy as schoolgirls and Malark knew the game well. He would win some hands, lose some hands, curse good naturedly and make fast friends. By the end of the night he knew two things: Piracy was on the rise now that the winter storms had cleared and there were camps outside the city "a good lad like him should stay away from."

The rumor mill had failed to confirm Hookhand's name, though there were mutterings of some sort of chief among the bastards and many calls for his head on a pike. Malark also couldn't find out anything about M without tipping his hand further. When he spoke wistfully about a lass with purple hair, he was only directed to a brothel and a dye shop (in whichever order he fancied).

As he made his way back to the inn, his purse a little lighter, he drunkenly stumbled into a bit more luck. On a pole he was leaning lay the scraps of a wanted poster. A bit more scavenging led to a tossed ball of paper that showed a drawing of the man they called Hookhand. As Malark studied it under magelight he could only come to one conclusion. It was a different man pictured than the one he sent sinking to the depths. His distinctive scar was nowhere to be found. The wizard breathed a sigh of relief and got his wits about him. He got back to the inn in good order and collapse to a deep sleep.

Malark passed two more days this way, waking up and shaking dreams of violet eyes out of his mind, scouting enemy camps, and gathering information at night. On the third night, he confirmed the arrival of the supposed pirate chief, and luckily the chief was expected a camp he had already surveyed. This particular camp was in a defensible cove, a perfect hiding spot for pirates looking to set sail at any moment. Now he had to make a plan of attack, for he didn't have any half-orcs fighters or half-angel clerics watching his back. Hiring sellswords sounded appealing but with the reputation of Daggerford, he would likely attract too much attention. Not to mention Malark could fall to a dagger from an ally just as easily as a cutlass from the enemy.

But there was no way around it, stealth was not his specialty, a solo infiltration was a long shot, and while he could talk his way around most sailors, he despised pirates and wasn't the best at hiding his emotions. A frontal assault was the only way he could properly employ his specialties, but that could lead to needless slaughter and he didn't want to kill anyone until he heard an explanation from the imposter.

There was no solution, he would have to wait and see if opportunity presented itself. As he climbed the stairs once more, ready to sink into his waiting bed, he felt a tingle of apprehension as he reached for the doorknob.

After a moment of hesitation, he turned the knob and walked into the room, where a not unwelcome guest awaited him. She was decked out in black leather stealth gear, weapons put to the side, lounging there without a care in the world. One strand of purple hair was twisting in a lazy finger as the rest lay spread across his pillow.


	4. Can you flirt a plan together?

"Funny, I asked for a blonde." For once Malark's wits seemed to be about him and he managed to keep from showing his hand too early. Half-elf eyes were sweeping the room for traps or any other figures. He didn't sense danger but one could never be too careful in Daggerford.

"You'll find her body out the window, I'm not a fan of blondes or competition." The rejoinder came just as swift but it wasn't accompanied by any urgent movement or explanation. M just seemed content to lie there, playing with her hair and his heart and moving her legs in a very intriguing stretch.

Malark hesitated another second before sinking to the chair at his bedside and starting to remove his gear and boots. He was content to play the waiting game and though his traitorous heart was pounding against his chest, the wizard wanted to stay in control. Funny how much more intoxicating her perfume was than any of the ale he had all week. He was in so much fucking trouble, and glad that his mouth stayed shut.

"I heard you were asking about me."

"You were on my list but not at the top."

"I came second to a man with a hook for a hand?"

"What can I say, I like a man who can accessorize."

"Well that answers a number of questions I had about seamen…. I mean sailors"

"Were you in here all day? I think you managed to get hair in every nook and cranny."

"Don't change the subject…. And I heard you were looking for me so I came to tell you about your best pal Hookhand and his arrival in town."

Now that they finally arrived at the elephant in the room, they both sat up and seemed to move past the games into something serious. "I told you once I would help you. This man is using a dangerous name to do villainous hateful things. If I have my way he won't be around to see the summer. What was it that he plundered from you that was so important? I'll try not to let it burn."

"You don't have your party; a frontal attack is stupid and suicidal. I didn't take you for either." For the first time since the bar Malark saw how dangerous she could be when she was playing in her element. When she spoke in that voice, even unarmed, Malark had to resist the impulse to check his body for knife wounds or crossbow bolts.

"He'll be here for a week, maybe two at the most and then he'll start the summer raids. Innocents will die, at sea and on land, and his reputation will grow. I need to stop him now before that happens. If you have another idea, then I'm all ears."

M seemed to pause at that, violet eyes taking him in before sweeping over his person, his gear, the room and then back to him. Instinctively he knew what was in her head. She was thinking about their interactions, and trying to determine from everything she knows whether or not…. "You can trust me, I didn't travel here on my own to con you, and I truly don't care what you want from his plunder. So long as he's stopped I'm happy"

Her lips twisted into a quick frown and then almost a pout as she felt a jolt up her back and stood up to face him. "Stay out of my head, that's not very nice! How did you even do that anyway? You should have had to cast a spell for telepathy."

"That wasn't a spell…. That was intuition. Was it that accurate?" M's silence was a deafening answer. She blushed redder than he had during the campsite and seemed torn between being impressed and throwing a tantrum. But she quickly regained control.

"Moving on… Rather than going to your death by threatening a bunch of bloodthirsty pirates with some sort of daring magical assault. We can go with my plan." She paused but he gestured for her to continue. "I'm expected in the camp, he wants me to go after the governor of a well defended port colony down south. If I do, I'm to be rewarded my weight in gold supposedly." The sarcasm was replaced with a flash of indecision, but she continued "And I receive what I really want. Without going into detail, Hookhand has a scroll in his possession. It doesn't belong there; it belongs with me."

"A scroll? And does he know you want it?"

"Yes, unfortunately I'm acquainted with one of his crew. The snake helped me chase down a lead for a noble's ship carrying the scroll. But before I could board and take it the ship as looted by Hookhand's crew. Now he knows he has leverage on me, but doesn't know me well enough to be sure how I will react to it."

Malark knew he had to take a step back. His mind was already planning stratagems and counters, his hand was itching for his spell book so he could find a useful glamour as well as something big and powerful in case of an escape. But he took another breath; he was skipping a step. "So, are you proposing we work together? I back you up as we infiltrate the camp. I get my shot at Hookhand and you get your shot at the scroll?"

"… Would that work for you?"

"It's better than my plan, but we both know you have the advantage here. It's your plan, you know what you're looking for, you know where I'm staying, you know what I want. If either of us is getting out of this alive, it's definitely going to be you."

"What's your point?"

"I need to know that you trust me, at least enough to get me in and out alive if you have the chance. Show me that you trust or care enough to give a shit whether I live or die."

Barely a foot separated them on the edge of the bed and as he asked for any sort of assurance he kept constant eye contact, trusting his intuition and his instinct. M leaned in close, her cheek brushing his as her lips whispered in his ear "My name is Meira."


	5. The Calm Before the

Meira stood in the corner of the encampment, ten feet from the fire with an untouched drink in her hand. All around her, pirates celebrated their latest haul and the imminent arrival of the leader that made it all possible. Their entry to the camp had been without fanfare. Even without the return of the thugs sent to get her, Hookhand had no question that his orders would be followed, and his assassin of choice would arrive promptly to do his bidding. The guard didn't question or even disarm them as they approached.

But that was the end of their good luck. Meira pondered the past days and wondered whether the gamble that she was taking was even worth it. She made herself vulnerable, to her enemies and to the unknown factor standing behind her. Malark was standing behind her as a silent guard. For once he carried a weapon, a curved blade he doubted Meira paid for; a diversion from his true talents. They had agreed (or at least he didn't contradict her) that she should do all the talking. He had already made his pure disdain for pirates perfectly clear and standing silent surrounded by drunk enemies plotting murder and mayhem was only fueling his rage.

While his anger was building, it was not the deadliest combustible in the camp. Standing near the entrance of the camp was a wagon filled to the brim with wooden boxes, stamped with the symbol of a stylized dragon with its jaws opened wide. Malark could tell the contents were magical the moment he laid eyes on them, and when Meira muttered "Explosives…. Shit…" he realized that this new Hookhand had even grander plans than his predecessor. Anyone who gathered that much Dragon's Breath clearly had designs to use it.

Employing assassins and gathering magical explosives can only mean that the vagabond was moving on from vulnerable merchant vessels to more defensible settlements. With enough men and ships at his disposal, he could lay waste to plenty of the smaller ports. And with Meira placing a knife in the Governor's ribs, any chance of stability or reinfocements would be lost; it would be chaos. Raids on ships were deadly enough without the casualties of innocent villagers, women and children alike, and neither Hookhand nor his predecessor was known for his merciful ways.

Malark's hood was up and his eyes were obscured but Meira could still see the tension radiating off him. With a mix of emotions, she realized that this was another first; she never worked alongside unpredictable elements, and she knew that he was using all his considerable restraint to follow her instructions and wait for the right moment. Meira did not like how well she could read him, it meant that she had been paying more attention than she thought and may have become somewhat…. attached.

What started as an innocent distraction from her problems had morphed into something completely different with each interaction. Meira knew of his arrival in Daggerford within hours. Her network of gossip and her underworld knowledge allowed her to keep track of Malark as he went about his scouting. Meira was pleased (and a bit relieved) to learn that he seemed to be sincere in his goals and not an actual stalker; he clearly was gathering information on his enemy and working up a plan of attack. She would never admit it, but she had done some shadowing herself, had cased his hotel room and watched his progress as she worked out whether to approach him.

The wizard didn't have her methods or her tools, and he clearly had different goals, but Meira liked how Malark worked. He was prepared, diligent and confident; while she had worked with others plenty of times, any new inclusion into her life needed to meet some high standards. But it was not supposed to work this well, and enjoying his company was not part of the plan. Long tense walk to encampments were not supposed to have banter that made her smile, she was not supposed to want to turn around during a mission and comfort her stressed "guard". Meira hadn't comforted anyone at all in a long time, and the desire to do so was disconcerting.

Meira wasn't stupid or clueless, she knew what was going on in her head but not only was she not interested in having those feelings in the first place she was having them at the worst possible time. She wasn't just in the middle of a job, she was its architect and they would only survive if she stayed levelheaded and stopped letting her mind wander back to his room back in Daggerford.

Suddenly the already loud camp exploded with cheers as an imposing pirate warship pulled into the dock. Sailors ran up and the next half hour was a flurry of movement as the ship was moored and the cargo of treasure was unloaded. Meira was approached by a rugged sailor who came off of the warship and greeted from afar before being waved over to the main campfire. Strangely enough as the confrontation approached, Malark felt the tension leave his body. The waiting was over and he was ready to finally face the new reincarnation of the Demon of the Sword Coast.

"So, I assume that's your contact, I shouldn't be surprised you managed to be 'acquainted' with the only good looking one. I mean you couldn't just be satisfied with some yellow teeth or scurvy."

Meira was seriously relieved by this change and was grateful he couldn't see her grin behind her. "Well he does have some very calloused hands….." Malark's groan was muffled but audible "and like I said, the Snake betrayed me, so feel free to ugly him up while we're making our escape."

The two companions approached the main campfire, as the rest of the revelers started gathering as well. Meira expected some sort of showmanship from the captain before a smaller private meeting to discuss the governor's assassination. But she knew that dealing with pirates was never sure, and there was always a chance that things could dissolve into an all out brawl. Her exit was already planned, but if Malark decided to make a scene… well she knew she was taking a high risk with both of their lives…. but nothing would keep her from that scroll.

Though the crowd grew thicker, Hookhand stood out, perched on top of a makeshift stage of barrels and planks. He stood roughly 6' and had a scraggly matted black beard braided and adorned with beads and coins. The light from the campfire shone of his bald head as he dusted off his cap before placing it back on and making a sweeping gesture to the crowd with his signature hook. Around his neck lay a necklace of connecting white shards leading to a skull medallion. He was garbed in a jumble of stolen items from merchant ships but the cutlass and scabbard on his waist looked custom made for him and his boots were well worn and stood apart from the rest of his fancier wardrobe.

"They call ya boys criminals and they call ya thieves. They call ya cowards because you have the sense to fight when ya'll win. But to sail the sea is the task of brave men, and to take what you want is the mark of anyone with power!" The crowd began to grow mor rowdy as they cheered Hookhand's words. "There are no heroes laddies, just the strong and the weak. And I think I know which side ya want to be on." The muttering and calls of support turned into a cheer and a chant. Calls of "Hookhand" reigned before he brought up his hand and hook again for silence.

"For too long we've fought for crumbs! We've been chased and harassed by navies, elves, and humans and all sorts of monsters. Too long we've been hassled by every group that fancies to make a name off us men of the sea. We've got bigger fish on hand gentlemen, and we'll feast like it's our last night on this world!" Hookhand then spotted Meira in the crowd and the crooked smile he gave was one of a pure predator. "I'm through playing the game of the common pirate. I've got some tricks and some surprises to sink every ship that flies colors! And with you lot behind me, no one will stop me from being Lord of these seas!"

The bedlam raised to a raucous cry as the crowd shouted at Hookhand to lead them to glory and treasure. Hookhand called back into the audience and played with their responses, working them up into a fever pitch that did not settle. Meira started eying the crowd warily and Malark was doing the same, his eyes taking in every face as he pictured them on the open seas, the fires of all who oppose them in their wake.

Hookhand beckoned forth Meira and she felt dread in her gut knowing she was about to be made a part of the performance. Malark kept close but even he knew that putting a stop to this farce now was not in their best interest despite his displeasure at his crush getting closer to the villain.

"Now boys, I told you I had some surprises for ye! This Lass is gonna make us all rich by stomping on a little cockroach while we take all that bug's money. What say ye Lass, you up for the task?"

Meira raised her chin defiantly and knew she needed to play this properly. "That depends on whether or not you decided to pay my price!"

Hookhand reared his head back and laughed derisively, and his men echoed along. "Aye, Lass, I know you're expensive, even for a woman." He gestured to the first mate that Meira had only identified as "The Snake" who reached into a nearby unloaded chest and pulled out a wooden cylinder. The Snake unscrewed the top and poured out a scroll of thick parchment, rolled up but unsealed. Hookhand brought the crowd and Meira's attention back towards him. "That fancy thing is useless to me but if it's your price you'll have it upon delivery. Plus, the gold as mentioned; but since you seem to care so little for it, maybe I'll dock the price and buy these lads some more friendly women!"

Meira barely registered the taunt as her eyes remained fixed on her prize the moment the pirate revealed its location. Now all she needed was the crowd to die down and disperse before she made her play. She acknowledged Hookhand with a scowl and meant to drift back and let him get back to playing his games and crowing about his ascension. But as the pirate leader's eyes followed her to the ring of his crowd, they flicked behind her and narrowed menacingly, a taunt dying on his lips before they too pressed together.

"You there, behind the she-elf. Show yourself!" Hookhand had paled considerably but his bluster had turned to anger, and he was pointing directly towards the hooded wizard. Meira froze as she knew instinctively who had drawn his attention, and the crowd went summarily silent.

In that silence, Malark stepped forward and removed his hood, his silver ring gleaming around his neck as it fell in front of his jerkin. Malark looked dead in the eyes of the pirate captain and said without preamble. "So, you're the New Hookhand hmm?"

"I remember you….."


	6. Storm

Malark didn't go into this encounter unprepared, he was ready for a lot of things. Plans and counters had taken into consideration a duel, a riot, a quick escape, and unfortunately they had to account for a potential betrayal. The wizard was facing a ghost from his past and he would not be caught off-guard. Yet here he was, standing in front of a man clearly different from the one he left pinned and dying to a sinking ship, expecting to move on from the ghost. Instead he found that same ghost was pointing to him in shocked recognition.

"You! You were the one who took us down 6 years ago!" The crowd muttered in confusion, uncertain whether to reach for their weapons. "Why the bloody hell are you here? This is my night you wretch! This is the night I become Lord! None of you spineless "heroes" will get in my way. So answer me, why are you here?"

Malark didn't look back at Meira, though she was on his mind as the crowd grew more restless. "I suppose I'm here to see a ghost. Why are you wearing a dead man's name? Ashamed of your own?"

"Hookhand" cursed and spat towards his defiant adversary. "I knew it was you. You and your lads sank the boat with the captain impaled on the mast. The rest of his crew were just minnows getting in the way of your shark hunt. We could have all drowned in that dark drink, storm beating down on us. You wouldn't have given a damn."

The pirate stood on his perch shaking with rage as memories brought him to silence. While the crew seemed ready to jump on Malark at any moment before, now they backed away, trying not to get caught in their captain's wrath. He suddenly lifted his head to the sky and bellowed "Well this Minnow became a Shark! And you, here all alone, like some sort of Invincible Hero? You're nothing but dinner."

Malark had heard enough. Without waiting for the Pirate Lord to finish his threat or draw his blade the wizard blasted a Ray of Frost straight through two of the supporting barrels under his makeshift stage. As the cold pierced and shattered the wood, a small hole snapped in the stage planks, dropping the pirate's right leg down below. Hookhand caught himself roughly on his hip, gasping in pain before bellowing at his crew. "Get him!"

But without missing a beat after his spell, Malark reached into his cloak and pulled out his countermeasure to a riot: a spell scroll. Hoping that his companion had enough knowledge to follow his lead, the wizard shouted, "Three half elves near the cargo!"

As the scroll opened and was activated the words of power, rough hands reached its user from behind. With a rush of magic and a spray of fine sand, the scroll activated, reaching out in a sphere with Malark at the epicenter. As the magic pulsed outwards, the arms encircling his waist slowly loosened as their owners dropped to the floor fast asleep.

The magic was powerful and widespread, as the crowd had packed in within 50 feet, every pirate without elven blood was forced into a magical slumber. Half drawn weapons scattered to the dirt of the camp and a few small fires even broke out from the torches held aloft by crew members.

A cry rang out as one of the half elf pirates fell afoul of an unseen blade. Meira had taken Malark's cue and had sought out the half-bloods he had discovered while waiting for the captain to arrive. The fey ancestry of Malark, Meira and her victim prevented them from succumbing to magical sleep, though as the man fell in a pool of his own blood, he clearly envied his comrades their dreams.

A rough cry from the stage refocused Malark's attention. As the pirate Hookhand slowly paced forward, limping slightly but still standing strong. Without waiting for an explanation Malark casted the same spell that had bested his predecessor and sent a spike of ice hurling towards the black heart of the Pirate Lord.

The spell struck true but as the Ice Spike pierced flesh it dissolved into waves of energy and Malark noticed the hanging skull medallion around Hookhand's neck was now glowing with power.

"Heh heh heh, bet you weren't expected that were ya _Hero_? Your little castings won't hurt me so long as I wear this!" Hookhand walked over and kicked one of his crew. When he didn't awaken, he grabbed for the horn around his neck and blew into it. While the slumbering crew didn't rise, a set of guards on the ship responded to the call. Bows were drawn as they spotted Malark alone with their captain and a first volley was released upon command.

Another spell provided a shield of wind that diverted two arrows from finding their mark but Malark was still under attack. Both remaining half elf pirates were charging with their cutlasses, unaffected by the sleep and seemingly left untouched by Meira.

The wizard found reason to draw his previously unused blade and blocked the first strike roughly. Strength nor swordsmanship was his forte, but he managed to use his position to avoid the second strike before his opponent tore his sword from his grasp.

Malark's hands clasped together and a quick familiar spell came to mind as he pushed both palms out and called for the fury of thunder. The Thunderwave pressed out in a cube, pushing back the two half elves, but once again passing harmlessly over Hookhand, his medallion growing even brighter.

Before Malark could recover, a weighted glove backhanded him across the cheek, and a metal hook tore at the side of his jerkin. The half-elf hero backed up, stumbling over bodies and barely dodging arrows as he backpedaled towards the sea side of the cove camp.

Hookhand raised his arm once again to signal the archers to cease fire and then tore the cloak from his shoulders. The pirate tossed aside his hat and drew his blade, standing menacingly against the wizard, ready to strike. "You're not going to die by an arrow to the heart, no! That would be too quick for the likes of ye! My blade will open you up a dozen times and my hook will peel flesh from bone. You'll be begging for death before I'm done with ye!"

Quick and sure, Malark stood up quickly and instinctively shot another Ray of Frost towards Hookhand. It impacted but dissolved just like the others but now the wizard was on his feet with some space to work with. As he observed, the glowing necklace was brighter, but only towards the center. Some of the outer stones were no longer glowing.

Hookhand caught him staring "You like my pretty here? A warlock gave it to me to protect against pathetic casters that can't fight like real men. I've worn it every day for two years in case we met again!" Hookhand stabbed his sword into the dirt and pulled out a small sphere from his pouched, it glowed with flickering lights of yellow-red. As he hurled it at Malark's feet, it exploded with flame and force, pushing the wizard back and forcing him closer towards the docks. A nearby tent caught on fire and some of the sleeping pirates were now smoldering corpses.

"That warlock also gave me these pretty presents. I'm going to use the breath of a dragon to burn down whatever I please. Nothing will stop me from being Lord, especially not the same bastard that cost me captain his life and took the fear from all Sword Coast pirates!" Malark's next spell missed wide, caused smoke getting impeding his normally sure eyes. As he readied yet another elemental casting, he stumbled to his knees. His eyes were drawn to the right where he saw the Snake lying on the ground with an empty scroll container on his side. Malark felt his heart sink as he realized that Meira had only taken out the half elf because she was between her and the scroll….

"For too long we've been running and hiding! Those blasted marines knew that we had lost our leader. They hunted us day and night, till merchant ships sailed these waters with nary a care in the world. Fat and lazy they were till I brought the fear back." Malark didn't even register the monologue of victory as he thought back to these past few weeks. His mind couldn't help wondering if he had been that much of a fool to think he mattered to a rogue he knew nothing about. He couldn't focus on his enemy or cast a spell, he felt like if these were his final moments, he should be thinking about his friends and those he fought with not some ridiculous copycat or scheming betrayer. Even though he kept thinking about violet…. _**BOOM**_.

Hookhand threw two more dragon's breath spheres around him, cutting off Malark's escape to the sides and shaking him out of his thoughts. Hookhand was _still_ talking "I've come too far and killed too many to let you foil my plans. With you dead, no one will stand in my way!" But with the speech and the posturing came time and room that let Malark study the necklace with arcane knowledge. Three stones near the medallion were lit up and glowing with a bright aura and the three further stones were dark. The wizard guessed the dark stones were countered spells, meaning three more spells could be blocked. There was no certainty in this fight. Malark needed to gamble and see if a powerful enough casting could take out more than one stone simultaneously. He let Hookhand continue…. "You followed me in my nightmares! You haunted me! I will put you out of your misery you dog! Then the great Hookhand will rule and the captain's name will live on forever!"

Peace and quiet settled in Malark's mind despite the flames and the crazed ranting. While his ring weighed heavily on his neck, and he felt his failures and remaining tasks pulling his head down, up rose his head with pride. Malark os Mys Shari had cast his magic and his defiance into every evil he passed. He fought alongside good beings, saved innocents and inspired many. To say there were no regrets was a lie, but here, surrounded by flames and staring down yet another face of evil, Malark knew he had lived his life well. And if he died, then he would fall into his beloved ocean, and that was an end he couldn't have written better.

Though turning to the sea he couldn't stop the thought ' _I wish I had taken her sailing just once…._ '

Hookhand was ten feet away. His eyes gleaming in triumph. The pirate had his prey cornered. Six years of his life were coming to a head and as he enjoyed his victory, the gloating came naturally. He stepped over the body of another sleeping crew member as he made his way to the wooden dock. Finally, he was the big shark and no one could stop him. "You'll die for the captain, for the crew and for me!" Malark readied a bolt of lightning. "Finally, I'm the big shark and no one can- _**SHRRRRRK**_.

The tip of a familiar Kukri blade stared at Malark through the chest of his nemesis. The blowhard pirate looked down at his lifeblood seeping away; the grand conquest of his nemesis was rudely interrupted. The blade slipped out and the man fell to his knees. Hookhand II, the merciless Demon Captain and pirate lord of the Sword Coast died confused. His last thought was resentment that he hadn't gotten to finish his speech.

Meira stood with both blades drawn and gave Malark a wry sarcastic look. "I mean honestly, who talks for five minutes while throwing bombs at an opponent? Was he planning to kill or deafen you?"

Malark was….. conflicted. Obviously, there was relief and a surge of compassion and pride for his tricky companion. But there was also a bit of a drop in his stomach, like he had lost out on him big climactic life defining mo- oh wait, shit he forgot. Malark unleashed his prepared lightning bolt directly to his left, impaling the pirate ship and frying the two archers who were getting back to their senses. The well placed bot even managed to fry a good hole in the center mast, laming the ship so the crew couldn't use it for more plunder.

With a shake of his head the wizard cast out his stupid disappointed thoughts, shook his hand of the remaining lighting magic and pulled the violet haired rogue into a tight embrace. One which she did not return the same way as the kukri blades were still in her hands. "Ummmm trying not to stab you but I do appreciate the thought."

The two backed away a bit and readjusted. The wizard spoke first "I'm just glad you were still around to save my ass."

"Well I've barely gotten to appreciate it prope—hang on. Did you think I left you to die?" Silence hung awkwardly in the air for a few beats. Meira did a mental review of the past five minutes in her head. "Ok, well I guess I was a little focused on the scroll, especially with all the flames and the bombs. Hmmmm…. Maybe I did leave it a little late there but honestly, I was just waiting for him to shut up or give me an opening and he only did one. I suppose…. I could apologize later when we're alone."

Malark's quick banter response was of course, interrupted by an enormous explosion. Because he is one unlucky wizard with a major crush and these things happen. One of the many torch fires had been spreading gradually through the brush and cloth until it had reached the crates of Dragon's Breath near the entrance. The large crater it blew in the ground sent sparks and chunks of flaming earth throughout the campsite, killing many of the unlucky pirates and immediately waking the rest.

Chaos was everywhere as Meira looked around alone, the men were screaming everywhere, the docks were sputtering with flames, and the lightning scarred ship now had chucks of it blown out by flaming earth. The rogue sat up after being blown back on her ass by the explosion, looking around for Malark who had disappeared during the blast. Luckily her blades were lying right next to her hands so she picked them up in time to intercept one of the panicked sailors. She caught wind of the Snake starting to rally the rest of the men and backed to the end of the pier. At first it seemed he wanted them to just put out the remaining fires. Then Snake looked down at the empty container nearby and sought her out, rage and revenge taking full priority over the preservation of crewmates lives. He gathered his men and found her position, moving towards her in order to overwhelm her with numbers.

Meira had plenty of time to gather her wits and her weapons but no time to escape. Her only assailant lay dead at her feet, but more were coming. They approached slowly and methodically, as if the world weren't burning behind them. With ten feet between them Meira had formulated three ways out with a less than 10% chance at success.

Suddenly a large gust of icy wind somehow passed over her completely and blew chunks of sleet into her approaching playmates. Meira turned and despite the wind and ice could see Malark perched shirtless on a rigged skiff, his hands pointing out and directing the storm forward. The violet haired half elf was never slow on the uptake, so she sheathed her weapons and darted towards the skiff. With a perfect jump, Meira landed on Malark's soaking wet cloak and shirt.

As they cast off, Malark effortlessly guiding the skiff out towards the exit of the cove, she looked up and blessed her dark vision. There was something purely unique and intense about seeing someone attractive in their element and Meira was drinking in Malark at his most pure: piloting a vessel with a grin on his face while casting storm magic straight into the forces of evil before escaping with the treasure.

That grin was pointed towards her now and she couldn't help but revert to old habits and try to put him down a peg or two. Meira poked him in the chest "What's with the fashion statement? Decided to show off for the men onshore?"

"I was somehow both soaking wet and on fire! Magical combustibles are a bitch, eh?" Burned patches of his cloak confirmed this as it lay in tatters beneath her, he also had a hole in his pants, which was fortunately or unfortunately on his outer calf. "Pleasant night for a sail isn't it, huh Gorgeous?"

Meira fell silent, smiling and blushing but refusing to answer, instead sitting down in the skiff and looking back towards shore. The pirates were waving their cutlasses impotently in the air as 50 feet of water lay between them and their quarry. Purple eyes started to close in relaxation before she heard a snap of fingers and an "oh" behind her.

As Meira turned back towards Malark, she felt one more spell being cast above her head. A look of concentration and a narrowing of eyes was soon replaced by a smug look of triumph as he looked down at her pleased as a puppy. "Got that good-looking Snake bastard right in his face!"

She decided that now was a time for a better embrace than earlier.


	7. Calmer Seas and Rocking Boats

When Meira opened her eyes, she felt a momentary flash of panic, but it was instantly quashed by a tremendously warm and safe feeling. She buried her face back into the pillow, though the noon-day light was too bright for her to fall asleep easily. Yet Meira was unwilling to move after the exhausting efforts of the night before and the warm protective arm covering her body and pulling her close.

Yet she was eventually driven to move by the light and the noise around her. She turned her head to see her partner from the night before, sleeping soundly and snoring lightly. The city of Daggerford was moving about the middle of their day, not knowing the monumental effort the pair had exerted to rid the shores of one of its deadliest scourges.

Meira eventually shifted out of bed as slowly as possible so as not to wake her companion and moved calmly and quietly towards her possessions. As she sat down to take stock of her things, she pulled out the Scroll that she had spent months searching for. While her curiosity bade her to open it now, she resisted the impulse and laid it down.

The two of them had stumbled into the room a scant hour before dawn the night before. The skiff they had commandeered had taken them out to one of the landings outside Daggerford, and there they had made their way back into town. Malark covered himself with the tattered cloak and they found that upon mooring, they had barely enough energy to make it to the room. Luckily the battle hadn't worn away their sense completely and Malark had set his wards before passing out. Meira couldn't place what made her stay the night, but she honestly couldn't remember any other impulse pulling her away from the wizard. She had just made herself comfortable and curled up without a care in the world.

What stuck her next was a sense of comfort and peace, immediately followed once again by shock and panic. She moved as she was prone to do when she was deep in thought, putting away some of the loose items around the room that they had dropped upon entry. What was she thinking? She had accomplished her goal in one mess of a mission and should now be on her way to a safe house to examine the goods and plot her next move. Yet her temptation lay in the exact opposite direction.

She barely had any interest in her main pursuit for the last month, instead she wanted to crawl back in bed and spend at least the next few days there with the man who made her feel safe. Her training and her history should have naturally repelled her to this option, yet here she was feeling protective and relaxed. As she finished putting Malark's boots near his bags, she realized she was even being domestic!

Before her thoughts could take her too far down the rabbit hole, she noticed her companion start to stir. Meira froze and found her attention was drawn to the way Malark had reached out to her side and pulled back empty air. She knew instinctively that he was stirred by the fact that she wasn't there. The wizard had started up from the bed, seemingly worried before catching sight of her and relaxing.

"Morning…. Or is it? How long have I been passed out? Did I wake you?" Half-asleep Malark seemed prone to rambling soft questions, but Meira found she didn't mind. Instead of answering immediately though she just returned to the bed and laid a comforting hand on his arm.

"You're fine, I just couldn't sleep with all the hubbub. You think after killing some sort of evil legend, the city would be grateful and keep it down a bit."

Malark chuckled, a low throaty sound that sent a thrill through Meira and immediately made her realize how little they both were wearing. Malark had discarded most of his burned clothes as soon as they had gotten back to the room and passed out immediately. She had similarly discarded her armor and breeches for a drier tunic and hadn't bothered with leggings over her smallclothes.

"Damn inconsiderate of them! I've half a mind to level the whole place! I don't suppose you managed to keep any of that dragon's breath eh?" Malark kept his eyes closed with a playful smile, leaning into her touch as she moved her hand gradually up and down, her eyes tracing over marks and old scars, looking for wounds from the night before.

"Yes, I like to keep my pouch full of things that almost kill me. That's called living dangerously, let me reach into my pockets and show you?" Though as soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them as he opened her eyes to look at her "pockets," they were immediately drawn to her bare legs. The way he was looking her up and down without any subtlety made her shiver up her spine.

Though his blood was clearly flowing now, he seemed to remain closer to sleep than wakefulness due to the exhausting battle. Rather than…. Pounce, Malark got out of bed, slowly walking past Meira and giving her an eyeful before bending down to his pack and grabbing his spell book. After rubbing his eyes once more Malark flipped through pages before he settled on a specific spell.

Meira but saw his hands trace a sort of sphere before pulling it outward but couldn't hear the incantation. In fact, many of the bustling city sounds seemed fainter as well and she realized that he had cast a sort of privacy charm. Malark then returned to bed just as slowly commenting. "Now that I've dulled the roar of those rude fellows, perhaps we could get some more rest."

As he motioned for her to return, Meira was torn between continuing teasing him or just settling down to relax. She ended up combining both and making a show of a slow, swaying walk to her side of the bed before copying his motion from before and bending down slowly towards her pack to grab a hairbrush. Sitting down on the bed facing away from her companion she slowly brushed out her hair before laying back down to without acknowledging him. Immediately she giggled playfully as she felt his arm reach out and pull her back against him, and then gasped when he copied her motion and starting to run his hands through her hair.

Immediately she felt all the tension and confusion and doubt give way and she knew exactly what she wanted next. After a few minutes of enjoying his hand in her hair Meira reached back suddenly and pulled his head in for a kiss. The first peck was short and playful, but it eliminated any sort of hesitation and rolled over on top of Malark and started kissing him with abandon. Meira felt her body on fire as hands roamed; his move from her hair down her sides and her legs while hers traced the lines of his shoulders and cupped his face.

But the playful mood hadn't quite left her yet and as he started to shift the position, she put a hand on his chest to stop him (though she let it linger there). "Hmmm that was fun, but…" She rolled over facing away from him again, putting her hand back to her hair. "keep spoiling me, I liked what you were doing before."

Malark grumbled a bit from behind her at being interrupted but had a smile on his face as he turned to play with her hair and was rewarded with several happy sounds of contentment and a delightful grinding motion under the sheets. As Meira relaxed more, her tunic started to slide over her shoulders and Malark was stroking her hair with both hands before his attention was drawn to her exposed back as a beam of sunlight shone on her shoulders.

"Huh, what's this?" Malark said as he touched a design between her shoulder blades.

The wizard had never seen Meira move quicker and sheets were scattered as she darted to her feet, leaning against the furniture pressed against the wall with her back turned to him completely. Fright and realization played on her face and she looked like she could flee out of the room at any moment.

Malark was not the most adept at interpersonal skills but he suspected he may have struck upon a sensitive subject. He sat up slowly, and sat in silence for some time, letting her catch her breath and not making any moves to stop her. He didn't want to show her pity or drive her away, and he spent some time thinking about what would be best to say. Malark looked at her and tried his best to use telepathy without magic….

"When I was younger, I knew my father, but I was never part of his family." She seemed surprise by the sudden topic change but welcomed it. "I was raised for one purpose and that was to be of use to the king he served. It wasn't much but it made me feel like I belonged to something bigger when I succeeded. I earned their trust and I was given a crew but…."

He didn't consciously break eye contact but found himself looking down at his hands. "There was a storm, and I didn't stop it. It was my job to stop it and I didn't. Looking back at that night, all I can feel is shame. I knew and served with those men, and the ones that survived called me a savior, but….. I could only see myself as a failure to my family. When they cast me out… it felt deserved."

Meira listened to his story and felt the tight grip she had on her fear and self-preservation start to slip away again. She knew without him saying it that he had opened up old wounds for her to feel less vulnerable. Somehow, he saw her shame and her doubt and understood it without judgement. Before she talked herself out of it, she turned around and stripped off her tunic, tossing it aside and pulling her hair out of the way. She was exposing herself in a way she avoided at all costs and it felt… terrible and cathartic at the same time.

"I was born in the Fay'ai….." the clan of assassins needed no further introduction. "I got out without finishing a job but…. It cost me everything. It cost me my family."

Violet eyes started to shed tears, and the jaded half-elf stopped trying to hold back her emotions. "I tried to change but I don't think I ever will. It's ugly and it's there forever and I hate it!"

Meira felt arms encircle her once more and trailed off into silent tears and let herself be comforted without worrying about what will happen next. Without conscious decisions, she ended up in his arms, sitting on the bed, being rocked gently back and forth with the sailor humming a sort of sea shanty. Eventually his hand made its way back to her hair. There were no more tears and no more hiding; Meira burrowed in closer and started to enjoy the feeling of being safe, without doubting or questioning it. Her partner had seen an ugly side of her and hadn't run away. That was a great start.

She didn't know if minutes or hours passed but eventually Meira came to the realization that his hand was still in her hair with his other was slowly tracing up her legs. The touches were slow enough to feel comforting, but the smooth repetition was awakening the mood from before all of her emotions spilled out.

The temptress in her was coming back and before she realized what was happening, she had switched from nuzzling his chest to kissing up his neck. Apparently, she found a sweet spot, because the hand in her hair went from light pets to an inadvertent tug on her hair. A sweet sort of pull that caused her to make a low guttural noise, stretch out and push them both back onto the bed.

A quick change in position found her back on top, completely exposed and unafraid. She knew from the look in his eyes that she was about to send them tumbling completely over the edge.

"This is me… all of me." She sat up proud, Violet eyes sparkling with affection, trust lust and the beginnings of something more. "Take it."

Malark happily complied.


	8. Epilogue

Malark felt the gentle rays of morning sunlight stir him from his sleep and again reached for Meira but grabbed nothing but sheets. He jerked awake but then relaxed, remembering that last time she was standing around looking at her scroll.

But as he blinked sleep from his eyes, the wizard didn't see any sign of her around the small room at the inn. As his heart started to pound faster, Malark noticed that her pack was gone, and a crisp white roll of parchment lay on the table, tied with a violet ribbon. His instincts screamed the truth at him, that she was not going to be coming back.

Instead of grabbing it immediately Malark stared at it for a while, emotions pouring over him. Anger was predictable, but he knew it was pointless, and he wanted to at least read her reasoning for leaving. Hurt followed and this one lingered. The inability to keep anyone important in his life grated on him and despite his lifestyle being one of a traveler's, he still regretted not having a "family" he could count on.

Malark interrupted his emotional spiral with a shake of his head and decided to stop being a coward and read what she had written.

This isn't goodbye.

I know you'll probably be angry that I'm leaving this way,

but I couldn't keep going the way we were, not the way I am now.

I need to think and figure this out,

and I can't do that when you're looking at me

or touching me.

You may tell me that you never want to see me again and I wouldn't blame you

But if this is the same for you that it is for me, let me be sure it will work.

If nothing else, we gave each other one unforgettable night.

But I think it can be more than that.

You've found me once before, next time I'll find you.

But if you need me, I left you a little something.

Thank you…. For everything.

Meira Mondesir

Malark read the letter more than a few times and in a fit of pique almost tore it in two. But instead he rolled it back up and tied it with the ribbon before putting it with the rest of his scrolls. He realized that the present she had left behind was the fur you stole from him as well as the components for another tracking spell, and a Sending spell to get a message to her.

Malark spent the remaining few days in Daggerford meeting with officials and discussing the fall of Hookhand. He stocked up on supplies and got a new outfit to replace the burned one. Though he also had to replace undergarments that were… torn off quickly.

In the end he stayed a full week more in the inn, then departed on Emerald, slowly plodding towards the crossroads outside of town. The crossroads had a well for thirsty travelers and he pulled up beside it. Malark spent some time staring out at the morning sun and weighed down with indecision.

He reached up and pulled off his ring from around his neck, and then pulled out another coin from his pouch.

Looking back into his hands, he thought about his options once again. While he was filled with the same purpose and temptation, nothing seemed to pull him as strongly as it had before. Instead of looking at his hands, he rose his head and stared out into the horizon as the road trailed out of sight. In that moment, the world seemed full of endless possibilities.

Instead of weighed down, he felt free, and none of his choices felt like they would lead him in the wrong direction. So, he dropped his reigns."

"You choose, boy."

Emerald whinnied at the freedom before plodding forward a few steps and starting down the path south at a more rapid pace.

"This way huh?" As he looked back on his journeys, he smiled, and the decision at that moment seemed so easy.

"Greenest it is!"


End file.
